Stromo
by NavigiumIsidis
Summary: Life in the backwoods of the Norwegian mountains is not as simple as one would think. Set around 930 A.D. Eventual Den/Nor.
1. Chapter 1

Red leaves scattered the lane of dull dirt. They lay haplessly all around, destined to be trodden down by leather boots and wooden wheels. They remained still full of the vigor once used to use to clinging to the branches in the cold mountain wind. Now they only lay, delivering a satisfying crunch as a remembrance of an exuberant life lived much too shortly.

His fist clutched his catch tighter. He strode with intent, arms swaying in time with his far reaching legs. His blue eyes were blown wide with excitement; they were locked forward and never betrayed their target. The small upturn of his lips and his flash of stark white teeth gave way to his vivaciousness no more than his quick pace and heavily beating heart did.

He treaded on light feet down the curved lane, under the empty trees, near the wooden fence marking nothing in particular, and past the rows of golden glowing wheat.

Leaves crunched, snapped, and shattered under his large, black boots. The mail clutching his shoulders clinked and the buckles holding together clicked along with his eager tromp.

He clutched his catch tighter.

_Three __pheasants!__How __lucky __I __am!__And __on __such __a __cold __morning __as __this! _He thought; head dipping lower and straw hair shifting over, to gaze upon his catch held even tighter in his fist. His mouth twitched upwards to complement his now wider, more fervent eyes. He averted his gaze back to the task at hand

_I must get it back home. So much food to be shared and I am the one to deliver it! _

His eyes jumped up to meet the sight of the large dark manor coming into view. Its size impressive and its dark wood felled from trees far mightier than any he'd seen before. A carving of a lion, painted over in the same red as the leaves, on the door was all that made it stand out from the dark, bare trees looming over the house.

_Such __a __place __would __look __far __more __endearing __if __on __the __flats._The man thought, stopping his walk to gaze around him. _These __mountains __serve __to __box __one__'__s __self __in.__If __only __my __house __could __preside __from __the __top __that __mountain __instead?__It __could __reach __to __the __clouds __and __I __could __see __all __that__'__s __under!_A smile graced his face as he stood glancing to the nearby mountains peak sparsely hidden in the blue and yellow mist of the frosty morning air. "Can't climb a mountain in the mist._" _he breathed out, mouth twitching downwards, only to be brought back up again with a sight of his catch hanging loosely from his hand.

He gripped his catch tight and bounded up to his steps, leaves crunching under each footfall. He jumped up, took two steps at a time, and grabbed the door handle harshly to swing it open as he called out "NORGE! I BROUGHT FOOD! LOTS OF IT TOO!"

Authors Note(s): This is my first fan fiction to ever be actually thought over, figured out, and written. I am unaware if I have broken any fan fiction laws and if I have, or if I've upset any grammar Nazis, please inform me of this!

As to the story itself, I swear it's going to get better. I know (somewhat) where it's going and this is just my way of getting it there. I swear I only sometimes intend to be vague

Well then, carry on!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Saemund = Denmark and Njal = Norway. This will be stated later but I don't want you to be confused. I'm not really into describing them because its fanfiction, you should know what they look like at least. Sorry if you don't.

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><p>He was met with the same dull look as ever from his housemate. The small man had his back to the door (still swinging on its hinges and letting in an uncomfortable draft) with his head turned to the side. He stared at the man in the doorway from the corner of his visible eye, and was probably frowning from behind the chairs backrest that obscured the rest of him. He stared for a few more moments and turned his head back with a sigh.<p>

"Njal. I brought food." The figure still in the open doorway said in a quiet, yet still somehow exuberant way.

"Well if you hadn't then you wouldn't be here, would you?" Njal said from behind the chair.

"No I… suppose not… but I brought three peasants! Isn't that quite something?"

"Have fun cooking all them yourself Saemund, I'm not fixing anymore than necessary." Njal said matter-of-factly.

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><p>The two sat down opposite each other at the long, wooden table.<p>

One roasted pheasant laid in the middle, surrounded by, what Njal deemed, ridiculous amounts of decoration. Saemund claimed the various leafy greens were tasty and not just for show.

When Njal requested for him to eat one though, the resulting argument ended in Saemund being banned from preparing food, In order to save necessary ingredients of course.

The rest of the dinner went by in relative silence, save for the few birds flying in the rafters and the occasional thud of a cup being placed down. When the meal was finished, and the plates slid inwards, both remained seated.

"So Njal, was it stupendous? Or **was it** stupendous?" Saemund shouted, smiling wide and staring.

"It tasted like pheasant. So that was good I guess?" Njal offered, slightly nodding his head even though a frown took over his face. "It wasn't burnt or anything."

Saemund chuckled at this, though his eyes continued staring forward. He grinned even wider.

"I think that's the best compliment you've ever given me! Hey, this is getting somewhere! What a good start!" He yelled to the world, arms spread wide to illustrate his point.

Njal looked taken aback by this, whether from his volume or his words, Saemund didn't know. Njal was tough to figure out, and a week was not enough to hold much progress on the whole 'living-with-your-best-Norwegian-friend' thing.

Only occasional pillaging with a man means that you're not very acquainted with them when sober. Njal was no exception.

Saemund has seen him jump off a ship screaming bloody murder at nothing in particular, getting just as caught up in the adrenaline as every other man around. He's jumped off cliffs into the water below, just for the hell of it. He often downs twice as much mead as the average man, and once even decided to join the berserkers* in their frenzied fighting.

There was no disputing the insane, yet entertaining, side of the occasional drunk Njal encounter, but living with the man was in an entirely different genre.

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><p>Authors note(s): Finally some actual content! Complete with names! Although I do apologize, I'm not much of a funny, look at this cool shit yo, person. I try to be and probably fail, but ah well, I'm not much of a writer anyways.<p>

Reasoning's: Norway is Njal because I have always liked the name Nils for him, but I went with a more period name for this, as the time frame is um… not modern. (Although I don't know. I am in no ways Norwegian or very informed about its names.) Also, I have read Njal's saga and I am going to use a bit of it. I just think it fits.

Denmark is Saemund because, while I like Matthias, everything else for him (in fanfiction) just doesn't sound _right _or belonging to the time frame. So I chose one that I liked from the time and yet still is easily read by the general populous. It was either Saemund or something like, Thorbjorn, which would've just sounded bad. (Sorry if any actual Thorbjorns are reading this, but I love your name can we be friends we can discuss reindeer and the war of 1812?)

Although these names came out of my Icelandic sagas... so if any Norwegians or Danes want to get up in arms then do so

*Berserkers: I have read that they get high off mushrooms then run into battle shirtless and are generally badass. Norway would do something like this in my mind.

Set around 930, which is (according to my books here) when Norway first came completely under Danish rule.


	3. Chapter 3

I have been freaking out over governors school applications and studying about the war of 1812 far too much to be healthy. So that's my excuse for the lateness.

I don't want to be busking for reviews or anything, but just some feedback would be lovely!

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><p>It had gotten dark now, as it usually does this time of year, and the two housemates shuffled outside into the now crisper air for a glimpse of the setting sun.<p>

They sat side-by-side; backs pressed against a log, facing toward the fields of their neighboring Norwegian farmers and out into the orange glow the sun had painted across the clouds.

They sat in silence, as they always did, just staring.

Njal always ensured there'd be silence between them.

You see, Njal was quite the perfectionist. He'd watch as he snatched food from his plate. He'd watch his fingers as he played on his fiddle. He devoted his mind to ensuring precision, and when it was not achieved he simply tried no more.

He counted, each and every day, the time it took for the sun to sink past the mountain top. He always was on time for it; no matter if his dinner was eaten at a table or held in his own hands as he sat.

And he was too much of a perfectionist to ever consider speaking in his 'horrible northern accent' to Saemund. (Though He claimed to himself that it was not an excuse for his asocial personality, he just didn't want to talk to Saemund. It wasn't that he didn't know how to. Not even a little.)

(Ok a a lot, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that aloud.)

So he just counted the sunset as he sat with Saemund, with only crickets cutting between them.

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><p>~*~*~*Flashback*~*~*~<p>

Saemund was expected to be bored with the quiet country life the strange Norwegian offered. Everyone in the royal Danish court (where he had previously presided) had imagined him to return, riding back to the king begging for a reassignment. Bets were even placed, as everyone had at some point encountered Njal on his infrequent visits to the country.

Njal was frankly too odd for the Danes, and by the looks his own King* had given him, he was strange for a Norwegian too.

He often could be found (or not found, as search parties for the man were more common than counter-raids) wandering the streets of Kopenhamn, casually glancing into windows and sampling flowers from someone's garden. * He often was found fairly easily due to the help of the town's women, who had earlier shooed him away when he failed to understand that his words were lost on them. *(Catching him was the easy part though, as he walked with an unmistakably slow saunter due to his need of placing his feet perfectly in alignment.)

His aloof personality and unthreatening demeanor caused him to be subject of many raised eyebrows and in his king's case, bridge pinches and head shakings. (All of which were lost on Njal)

When Saemund, as the official embodiment of Denmark (or at least that's what he told his king he was), was assigned to accompany Njal (the official embodiment of Norway) on his way back home one day, he threw a fit.

His pouting huffs and foot stomping could be heard throughout the kingdom, as well as his loud exclamation of "HE'S A COMPLETE IMBICILE, HE'D GET US BOTH KILLED ON THE WAY THERE! EVEN IF HE DOESN'T, I'D DIE OF BOREDOM. ALL HE TALKS ABOUT IS TROLLS AND AND HIS WHISTLING IS ATTROCIOUS."

As soon as he said that, a voice called out "why look, there's a door here." And Njal himself, came peering out from a sudden hole in the middle of the floor. "Oh look.' He said looking around the room. 'It's the throne room. Oh hello Saemund. I found this under here, do you want it?" he held up a old, slightly rusty sword.

Mouth agape just at the oddity and suddenness of the situation, he stuttered a "um.. no? Where even did you…?"

"Oh… alright then. Thought it'd make a good thing t' put ya out of your misery with." Njal shrugged and crouched back down into the hole, closing the door above him.

The room was once again left to Saemund and the King.

"Did you just… was that real?" Saemund uttered, still in utter disbelief.

The King went on with his earlier message, in a long drawn out sigh "His king is dead and his land is free. Ensure he makes it home and then he's ours for the taking."

Collecting himself up, Saemund glanced back down at where the Norwegian once was.

"Does this mean I'll have to stay there? He couldn't possibly live by himself; he'd get killed by his own countrymen."

"Yes… and he already knows as you can see. I tried to arrange a house in Oslo for you; however he insisted that you live out in the wilderness or something. Said he has a farm a little northward. I'd send someone else; I'd hate to know the repercussions that you being bored in an offbeat Norwegian valley would be like. But he insisted that you come, said something about how he wanted you to teach him how to whistle if his is so bad, and that you'd need to be shown a proper troll."

"Pretty much he just chose me to go because he knows I'd hate it there." Saemund retorted, rolling his eyes with a huff.

The King chuckled and waved Saemund out of the room, bidding him a farewell for now and a good luck.

~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~

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><p>Saemund absolutely hated the silence Njal hung around himself, though he grew to enjoy the subtle messages of hate sent his way.<p>

Like the Troll under his bed.

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><p>HERP DERP THIS IS BAD<p>

This is late and bad and my humor is lost to everyone I just know it

Anyways

Space-cadet Norway is best Norway

Historical things:

*Norways king was Harald I who untied the kingdom of Norway until his death in 930, in which his land came under the Danish crown.

*Those lands were actually just the southern tip of Norway but ah-well that's close enough

*Kopenhamn. Old Viking name for København. It's about 200 years too early in this story for it to be an actual town let along the kings residence but HAHA OH WELL IT'S FANFICTION

*Iceland WAS settled at this point, but was inhabited by Norwegian runaways who didn't want to pay the fucking taxes. Iceland baby is there but isn't really liked because he's fucking with the system so he's just gonna stay an outlaw for now

*There was still many petty kingdoms outside of "Norway" so counter-strikes were common

THAT IS ALL FOR NOW I AM SORRY FOR YOU BRAINS FOR READING THIS IT'S 1 O CLOCK AND I'M TIRED AS SHIT

Reviews are nice things to give

Yes yes


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: should I just write this is in Google translated Danish and have Norway being a sugoi ice princess who wears pretty purple dresses? Should it be porn? Is this what the readers want?**

**I'd be nice to know what the readers want…**

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><p>Saemund did some counting of his own.<p>

Ten minutes and fourty two seconds after arriving at Njal's house, he was reprimanded for sitting in a certain 'chair-only-Njals-ass-could-occupy.'

An hour after that he was still left sitting on an end table. He contemplated picking up the Norwegian, who had been plucking at his fiddles strings, and throwing him out the nearby window.

But it had only been an hour, and he couldn't afford to murder his charge or it'd be his own head.

So he continued to sit on the table, legs crossed and angry.

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><p>After another half hour Njal looked up. "Bored yet?"<p>

"No shit Sherlock."

Njal let out a slight laugh. "Want to leave?"

"All I want to do is eat some damn food and listen to something worthwhile."

Njal stopped plucking strings at this "Worthwhile? I haven't even played anything yet."

"I want some food"

"I can play you a song if you like?"

"I am hungry"

"I know some Danish ones even, I could play those."

"I REQUIRE FOOD."

Silence fell between them. Njal looked back to the Dane, practically snarling an answer that matched his new glare.

"Get your own damn food if you're hungry, Dane. You've got a pair of legs."

Saemund was astounded by this sudden change in character, but he still pushed toward his goal.

"Yes but, you're the host. You're supposed to provide for me. I'd also like a proper chair while you're at it."

Njal stared at Saemund, looking at him in the most cliché of incredulous looks.

"You technically own me now, so this is actually your house and so is its food. I don't have to provide for you."

"Well… then you're my slave now. You have to do what I say!"

"…_righhttt." _Njal said, rolling his eyes and standing up, apparently going somewhere.

"No seriously Njal, you do. Give me that chair, it's mine now." Saemund grabbed for the chair only to find it snatched away from his grasp.

"Yeah you know I really wish I could comply with that butttttt it seems that I've got a sunset to catch so…" Njal frowned and sauntered out the back door, trusty chair in hand.

"What… no… you can't just… NJAL" Saemund jumped up off his 'seat' and ran toward the man, who was now seated in his chair facing the setting sun.

"HEY YOU CAN'T DO THAT NJAL. YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN THE ORDER OF THINGS 'ROUND HERE."

Njal glanced up from his fiddle that sat in his lap. "No. I believe _you _do saemund."

Saemund frowned as his face contorted in anger. "NO." he screamed aloud, shoving Njal out of his chair.

He sat down, crossing his arms with a triumphant huff. He looked down upon the Norwegian seated so much lower than he, and stuck out his tongue in defiance.

Njal could only look up at the Dane when the Troll grabbed him. Saemund screamed ,quite a girly scream, at the large, green, ugly man-thing that smiled toward him.

"I suggest you learn that this is not Denmark anymore, _Denmark." _

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><p><strong>Haha I hope all my time skipping isn't confusing. If it is <em>LET ME FUCKING KNOW THAT<em>**

**No historical anything in this chapter, though I guess I could say that it was common Viking courtesy to provide a guest with food and shelter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Fuck.**

**I apologize for lateness again I just have so many things to do. Actually I have a quiz on Andrew Jackson and a test on the 30 years war tomorrow hahahahahaha fuck it here's a chapter bitches**

**I hope you know how much pointless research went into this**

**(thank you so much you lovely reviewers I hope you know I actually smiled for you guys, and I tried to clarify my dialogue ok?)**

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><p>The light tapping of a woodpecker awoke him.<p>

He wearily blinked open his eyes to greet the ray of sunlight streaming in from the edges of the door.

He glanced around his sleeping quarters, a bed within a closet. It was standard for a home owner, but concerning to him, as he wasn't quite aware of how he managed to both end up in the closet as a guest and then locked in. Hadn't he not been sitting outside with Njal last? "Perhaps that ugly troll dragged me in here? knocked me out and stole what's outta my pockets, the foul little...""Good morning, Saemund."

He jumped up at the sudden interruption of Njal standing there, the closet door wide open. "Before you go insulting my troll and I again, you have to go pick something up from the town."

Saemund could only blink back in response.

"Hellllllooo Saemund" Njal waved his hand in front of the Danes face "go" He imitated a running man with his fingers, "to the town" pointing over to the front door, out of sight to Saemund. "NOW"

Saemund attempted to make a quick dash, fearing that the Norwegian was angry again, and only managed to slam his legs into the opposing wall.

Falling back down again, Saemund clutched his knees to his chest. "FUCKKKKKING FUCKKK THAT HURT."

Njal still stood there, watching him roll around cursing at nothing. "Brilliant job, Dane."

"FUCK THIS CLOSET, IT'S SO TINY… FUCKING HELL MY LEGS."

"I don't think my closet appreciates you yelling at it, and it certainly doesn't want you to fuck it. So please, you can sleep outside if you like. No closets to fuck out there."

Saemund frowned at him, gained his composure and stepped out of the bed closet, walking away from the Norwegian and examining the rest of his house.

"No regular cots to sleep on? What kind of house is this?" Saemund realized after catching not a single trace of there ever being any benches lining the sides of the long house. There only appeared to be a fire pit, placed centerfold as always, and a short wooden table on the opposing side. Behind Saemund was two bed closets, placed side by side, and a small area meant for cooking. The Front door, set back by a short entrance hall, had a red lion painted on it, which Saemund saw repeated on several shields placed around the houses blank walls. Overall there was nothing spectacular about the Norwegians home, its furnishings were sparse and its size none too spectacular, but something about it just piqued Saemunds interest. Was it the lion? No, Saemund had seen it plenty of times before. Perhaps it was…?

"If you're looking for a rich man's house then you will not find one around here." Njal spoke up. Saemund had forgotten he was still standing there, watching him inspect his home.

"Is your Kingdom really that poor? I know it is not as great as mine, but surely your people have amassed as much as mine in their raids?" He turned back to Njal

"I did not say I wasn't rich. I own all the land in this valley actually; those fields of wheat and all those livestock are mine, and I needn't any help from my status."

"Then… why do you? You purposely live like this? You could have an entire bedroom to yourself! A storeroom to keep anything you could ever want! You could throw a great feast and be the talk of the town!"

"I don't want to be the talk of the town, which is exactly my reasoning. Harald may have united Norway as you know it, but there is far more outside these borders. Petty kingdoms still fight us from the north, which is none too far away, mind you. Sticking out like a sore thumb, a gold and silver laden sore thumb especially and that just spells disaster. Better to work hard for my money anyway, as no one steals sheep over gold." Njal finished with a fierce determined look, which Saemund saw as a clear reason to not talk any longer.

"o-oh… that… makes sense. Well um, oh, what was it you wanted me to pick up? Something from the town?" Saemund would rather get away now than face whatever work this man might make him do; being a farmers hand sounded none too appealing.

"Ah, yes that." Njals expression softened instantly "I need you to go pick up some cloaks from the red haired woman in the town, she fixed them up for me as I thought you'd probably need something warmer than what your used to. I also need you to stop by the man, Thorsteins house. He should have a note from my brother…"

Saemund marched out of the door quickly enough, calling "Alright! I'll be back soon!" behind him.

"Town's the other way, Dane."

"Got that!"

And with that, Saemund went off to meet the lovely inhabitants of Norway.

Or not so lovely.

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><p><strong>I mean no disrespect lovely Norwegian people, but everyone back then was kind of a dick by today's standards, yes? (I love your Fjord horses by the way; I wish my pony could sport such a Mohawk)<strong>

**Um yeah, just some straight up VIKING HOUSE HISTORY for you guys**

**Yep**

**Oh! The head of the house and his wife would sleep in a bed closet, locked from the inside for safety/privacy, and the rest of the inhabitants would sleep on benches lining the interior walls. Except Norway is strange so I say, No benches! Two closets! Win win!**

**No there was no toilets**

**He lives in more of a wooden long house as opposed to the more commonly photographed sod houses. The red lion isn't particularly historical, I just really like it and Norways crest (along with the other Nordics/not Iceland) has a lion in it so… but I didn't research the crests history or anything.**

**Viking beds (I'm guessing the ones in the closets) were some of the first platform beds to be build using wooden slats, so that they may be easily transportable. As in, able to be carried out of the house and then rebuilt on their boat. Yes. They took their beds with them. Ikea is very historical guys.**

**Yeah, boring chapter is boring.**

**Hold out for a while, break is almost here and that means more writing time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I… I wrote this Chapter… and… I was too lazy to actually… copy it off the paper… onto the computer**

**I am the laziest fuck you will ever meet … like what has it fucking been, a month?**

**This Chapter is dumb and yet important. It is historical but I am shit at history so don't take it too seriously.**

**Yep.**

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><p>Saemund waltzed down the steep winding path that led from Njals house to the quaint little town below. I wasn't a fairly long walk at all, but by the time Saemund had carefully navigated around all the boulders and fallen trees it was nearly an hour later. He didn't mind however, as the crisp Norwegian air was almost soothing to him. He had forgotten about Njal and his duty to protect him. He had forgotten his name, his birthday, and that he himself was the kingdom of Denmark. All he saw was green trees, brown dirt, and his own two feet picking their way down the hill.<p>

When he finally stepped onto some relatively flat ground, he ceased focusing on his feet and looked out on the cluster of houses that sat before him.

Nestled between the Rivers edge (the LaerardalrNorway had told him when he had first arrived) and the Mountain side, was the village of Borgund.

It was a laughably small settlement to Saemund, as it was composed of no more than five or six houses that rose up out of the golden wheat stretched across every inch of flat ground in sight. "Gotta take what you can get, I guess. " Seamund laughed as he trudged through the field.

He couldn't help but notice the golden hue to the wheat as he walked, or the plethora of fish that jumped from the shallow river to his left. '_Njal owns all this? …So he surely is a wealthy man.' _He thought, stopping to gaze at the sunrays illuminating the little town in its almost golden color.

"Looks like Freyr's on your side Njal." Saemund said as he was rid of the wheat and had stepped foot into the little road splitting the town.

"As is Idunn, it seems." A voice called out

Before Saemund could even blink in confusion, a woman stepped out from around a corner.

She had fiery red hair and a mischievous smile to match. Her cheery and freckled face was surely a sight to his sore eyes that were accustomed to Njals constantly stern look.

"You are Danish, yes?" She inquired

"Uh... yeah! I am! Is it really that noticeable?"

"Well… yes. Extremely. But I also received a letter earlier stating that a certain Danish man would be in need of one of my cloaks." She said "and you seem to fit the bill pretty well, yes?" At this she grinned and turned away, heading off towards, presumably, her house. She called out behind her "Follow me dearie!"

Saemund, in need of both a coat and a cheery companion, followed closely behind until they had walked inside the door and she had ushered him over to a chair.

"All I know about this is, a foreigner is coming to the village and he's going to freeze his ass off if I don't give him a coat. Your red tunic might look nice and save you in Denmark, but here you'll need a little more." She said to him, rummaging through a pile of fabrics. "Just hold on a minute while I find it…"

Saemund took this opportunity to glance around the house.

It was small, wooden, and so very Norwegian. It had a menagerie of furniture scattered about, with each having a number of garments laid across it. The fabric brought color to the house, and the light coming in from the window practically made the gold jewelry set on a small table glow. The Woman, whoever she was, was obviously well to do. '_And yet she still works for Njal. Perhaps he just is a generous man…' _he thought_, _although Saemund doubted that Njal was any kind of a charitable person. He just didn't come off as so kind.

"Here we are, then. Hope this fits you well enough."

She held out in front of her a long black cloak, complete with fur trim and everything.

Saemund shrugged into the garment, and once it was on he shuffled around, testing his mobility in it. Once he was satisfied with the fact that he could still throw his hands over his head, he folded the cloak back up and set it down.

"What do I owe you for this coat? It fits wonderfully, by the way."

She smiled her same sideways grin "Well I don't know about any gold or anything but I quite li-""would two pennies be sufficient?" Saemund said, holding up the coins in question.

The Woman, embarrassed at being cutoff, just shook her head and answered "No, no honey it's alright. Whoever sent the letter had also included some coins. You're fine… "

"Oh, well alright then! Thank you miss…""Hilda.""Yes, well thank you so ever much miss Hilda." Saemund scooped up his cloak and headed for the door, only to be held back by the womans hand.

"Dane, may I ask you something? Why are you here? On Borgund farm of all places." She appeared to have sobered up, as though this were merely more than an odd question.

"Well I am just currently staying with Njal. I'm not here for any important reaso-""YOU'RE STAYING WITH NJAL?" Panic appeared to have taken over, as Seamund watched her back away in utter horror. Gritting her teeth she called out "Well then good for you, Dane. Good for you." She still stood stiffly away from Saemund, even maneuvering away when he tried to reach out for her.

"Is there something wrong? Did Njal do something? Am I missing something here?"

"No, no. It's fine. You can do whatever you please, but just be forewarned that this isn't Denmark. I haven't personally been there but let me tell you we don't tolerate certain things here and you best keep that in mind." She said in a warning tone.

She ushered Saemund out the door, and promptly shut it in his face as he went to turn around and question her again.

He was left with nothing but a dull wooden door, and an empty town behind him.

_What had Njal done?_

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><p><strong>Wow ok yeah that was not very good…<strong>

**Anyways!**

**Notes:**

**I was looking up Stave churches in Norway (for later chapters) and the Borgund stave church was one of them. It was built on the grounds of the Borgund farm, so that's why it's named as such, and I saw a cute little picture of it that I wanted to use as the farm Norway himself owned. At this point, the Church isn't built and the town's small.**

**The Farm was next to, from what I could piece together, the Laerdalselvi . It was called Laerardalr in the olden days because Dalr = Valley/Dale and the farm is located on a flat piece of land between the mountains.**

**Norway just chills up in his house on the side of one of the hills**

**The Borgund farm, however, is now a part of the Laerdal province (Don't quote any of my Norwegian geography ok, I live in Virginia it's not like I can just go and check) in Sogn og Fjordane which is in the western part of Norway, so it's a little too far North to have been really considered part of this time periods "Norge"**

**But the information on the actual borders is completely unknown and really it's subjective so I have decided to extend the boundaries a little further and say its part of Norway.**

**What else what else…**

**Freyr is god of fertility, and from what I believe I read somewhere this extends to crops so Farmers tend to focus more on him.**

**Idunn is the godess of youth. She's the one with the golden apples that everyone eats to stay young forever. I think the Norse Personifications would play close attention to her considering their circumstances. And Hilda notices Njals never ending youth because there isn't a very big population anywhere and it'd be hard for all the Nations to hide or something.**

**Oh yes, the Coins.**

**The Scandinavians didn't really have coins until this happened:**

**In England Aethelred II ('Noble advice' and was nicknamed Unraed meaning 'No advice') went to massacre all Danes in England on day (Nov.12) 1002 (so its way after this story but bah humbug)**

**This made the remaining Danes super pissed, and the man not wanting to go to war had 75 mints opened and continuously paid the Danes NOT to attack. Seriously. It was called Danegeld for 'Dane Debt'. He ended up giving them like 40 million silver pennies (Money essentially, not the useless little coins they represent now) and then Cnut came and just was like fuck this shit and took over England.**

**The old English word Pennig is what they were called, and this is most likely what's responsible for Danish money being called Penge. (if my sources are true)**

**Anddddd yeah I think that's all…**

**Hope you liked it and I hope that I am not too lazy to actually write it.**

**Reviews are nice things to do! If you don't I will make you pay me 40 Million pennies.**


	7. Chapter 7

Heeding the woman's words, Saemund ducked around the nearest street corner all the more wary of any passerby's. If one Woman thinks of Njal that way, there is no doubt that the rest of the residents share her feelings. He paced back and forth down a side alleyway, considering his course of action. _Ok let's see, _cute_ girl has Njal issues. Why? _

Saemund feels as though he's got a target painted in the square center of his forehead. Saemund did not particularly enjoy this feeling of vulnerability due only to his lack of local knowledge.

His confusion and annoyance quickly rose into a feet stomping and fist clenching tantrum.

_I don't even know what I've apparently done! How does she blame me for staying with Njal? What the hell did he do to her? Murder her brother or something? Either way does she think I had a choice in the matter? _ Saemund thought as he dashed out of the town, wanting to be rid of whatever stigma it carries towards him.

Disregarding Njals request to retrieve a letter, Saemund planned to charge up the mountain side, kick down the door, and then force Njal to admit to whatever he had done and to apologize for it, because his actions had interfered with Saemunds flirting. If he can't even talk to a cute girl in this back country town without her flipping a shit over his housemate, then he wasn't going to stand for anything Njal could throw at him. _Maybe I should tie him to that beloved chair of his and leave him all nice and pretty in front of her door. Sure those claws she's got could do some damage to his sour little face, bringing him out of that stupid little trance he's always in. Maybe I can hit his damn troll in the face with my axe while I'm at it._

Moving quickly through the field, Saemund reached the base of the mountain and gazing up caught a glimpse of his destination. "That little shits going to pay!_ " _

"I have to disagree, Denmark. I'm both not very little nor am I going to offer you any sort of payment."

Sure enough, sitting prim and proper and always, even in a tree, sat Njal himself. He sat about ten feet up, in a tree literally no more than two paces away from Saemund, legs crossed and an open piece of paper in his hand. Njal leered down at Saemund, wearing an especially sour frown on his face.

Saemund, tired of being at a loss for words because of this man, decided instead to scream out and kick the tree in question. Attempting to scramble up the trunk and grab a hold of Njal failed miserably. The Dane kicked and screamed and threw pine cones at Njal, who just easily allowed them to bounce off a sort of force field he'd created. Njal, though ignoring the Dane and reading the letter, could not help but smirk at his guest's childish behavior.

"ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE ALL DAY, DRIVING ME CRAZY?" Seamund screamed from the ground where he now sat, having completely given up on getting Njal down.

"I was thinking about it, yes. Although I need to get home to watch a sunset, now don't I?" Njal stated, now staring down at Saemund and being completely amused.

"Thanks for getting my brothers letter for me, Dane."

"Fuck you." Saemund replied, sounding considerably calmer. "ugh, I just want to go fucking home already BUT NO! I have to stay here with a tree dweller! A murderous mountain goat who commands fucking trolls and talks to fucking fairies or something!" He threw up his hands and decided to just lie down right there on the forest floor. He really didn't see the point in getting up.

"Murderous? And how do you know I talk to fairies?" Njal questioned

"Why else would that… Hilda freak out? What did you do, murder her husband? Because she thinks I'm your accomplice or something... oh and you know I notice you whispering to yourself? I'm just as much of a nation as you are; I know fairy tongue when I hear it. Hell, I'd bet I'm twice as old as you anyways, Norge."

"Hilda? Why would she go off on you? You weren't being an idiot, were you?" Njal asked, sounding slightly concerned. He swung his legs, and hopping out of the tree, met the Dane on the ground.

Njal looked down at Saemund, still sprawled out in the dirt. "What happened?"

"Right back at you."

Njal sighed and plopped down onto a nearby boulder. Drawing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them, he reluctantly began to talk. "Hilda absolutely hates me. She'll go off at any mentioning of my name. This is why I sent in that anonymous letter instead of actually requesting and paying for the coat directly. "

"Why does she hate you though?" Saemund interjected

"Shut up and let me finish, you. She hates me because, as you know, it's somewhat unacceptable for a man my age to be single. The fact that I'm rich and own the entirety of the land here, really makes people mad or in Hilda's case, jealous. They think I want to keep everything to myself. But she was absolutely head over heels for me, though I don't know if it was for me or my money…" He chuckled, nervously shifting around on his seat. "So she had planned for us to marry, and I wasn't exactly in position to object so I just… ignored her."

Saemund sat up at this, looking in disbelief at Njal. "The hottest girl in town was openly vying to marry you and you _ignored _her?"

The look Njal shot at him showed that he had no repercussions whatsoever.

"I don't care for how attractive she may be, but I know that I'd rather not marry her or anyone else. I'm quite fine with that, it's her that's got the issue with it. Instead of being smart about it and figuring out that I simply wasn't interested, she goes and tells the whole town that I won't marry her because I've been with one of the fishermen! She just drew the unmanly card out of nowhere!" Njal yelled, causing Saemund to stare over at him with a quizzical look.

"Well have you been with one of the fishermen?"

Njal chose not to answer and instead decided to stare a hole straight through Saemunds forehead.

"I mean it's not that unbelievable, if you ask me. You just _look _argr, what with your skinny arms and your pretty hair…"

"I will poison you, Dane."

"No! no, I mean, it's not a bad thing! You just seem like the type, not meaning that you are…"

Njal continued to stare straight through Saemund, and minutes ticked by in complete silence.

"Uh… it's getting dark Njal… should we go up to your house now.. Or"

Njal abruptly stood up and stomped up the mountain side, not even bothering to look back to see if Saemund was following.

* * *

><p><strong>ANGST ANGST ANGST <strong>

**so I am going to blame pre- and post-Reichenbach depression on my late update. (Sherlock has taken over my soul and then simultaneously crushed it into at least eight diffrent pieces.) but this is Hetalia! so:**

**I'm skiing right now so that means: No internet for research and plenty of time for writing**

**Uhhhhh so yeah**

**Argr was a pretty negative insult to call someone, as Vikings got really worked up over their manliness. It's pretty synonymous with being a bottom, and no one then wanted to be that. It was socially acceptable to sleep with men so long as the Viking still married and had children and preformed his manly duties as a top, but if you were a bottom you were unmanly. **

**Vikings actually killed each other over this issue. **

**In Njal's saga, which is where I got Njal's name from and some aspects of the story (ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST), Njal is called unmanly due to his lack of a beard. The entire saga is pretty much a bad soap opera with the underlying idea being "the Viking were dumbasses because they had huge blood feuds over the fact that they couldn't control their wives and they were insecure about themselves." and I think that sums up this time period pretty well. **

**Samund is a rapidly changing array of emotions because I just feel that he is impulsive (He's also considered very manly with his axe and he's so manly that no one questions his lack of a beard either.)**

**(every time I write 'Saemund said' I want to play Simon says with someone)**

* * *

><p>yeah i'm not much of a writer, am I? Oh well it's fun<p>

Reviews are greatly appreciated


	8. Chapter 8

Silently they had walked up the hill to meet an equally as quiet meal. Now they sat outside, as always, watching the sunset without a word. Though to Njal the silence was normally welcomed, his anger had turned into a sinking feeling had taken hold of him and had not yet let go long after the sun was gone behind the mountain top. Saemund waited patiently leaned up against the log as well, for he knew the bated air between them quite well. It seemed to constantly drift into any situation involving the two of them. Not even a request to pass a fork over was safe; every acknowledgement they made towards each other was soon met with the suffocating effect that followed when they got lost in their thoughts towards the other. The altercation at the bottom of the hill earlier didn't help their case out much, either.

They both where wary of the other for different reasons, however, for Saemund feared that Njal took him as a threat.

Njal feared that he wasn't one himself.

Saemund, wanting to escape the war being waged in his head, settled for a smaller battle, and spoke up.

"You said that um, letter you wanted… me… to pick up was from… who again?"

Njal glanced over at Seamund, seeming to have just registered that the Dane was still there. He dipped his head and sighed. He sighed due to the yet another futile attempt at reconciliation from Saemund. He snatched the neatly folded letter from his pocket and opened it up, flattening it in his lap.

Picking up the paper, he looked over at Saemund again and said "It's from my Brother. Egill's his name."

Saemund sat up straighter at that, and suggested by a wave his hand that he hold the letter. Njal looked a little dejected at this, but soon enough handed over the paper.

Looking over it, Saemund said after a few moments "I didn't know you had a brother…"

"Well it's not common knowledge that's for sure… he's an island a little north west of here. Found him around… oh, fifty years ago I'd say." Njal stated. "he's still pretty little."

"Is he… coming to visit?" Seamund gestured towards the letter again, obviously referring to its content.

Njal sighed "I wish… but with all…" his eyes trailed up and down over Saemund "…_This _going on, I'd rather he not."

Saemund looked taken aback at this, though truthfully it wasn't a surprise to him at all. He shouldn't have expected anything more.

Saemund answered back "I would love to meet him… I wouldn't mind him coming over or any…" he stopped short due to the icy look Njal was shooting at him.

Njal practically growled his words though his clenched teeth. "You know what I meant, Dane."

Though still wary of Njal's stare, Saemund couldn't overcome the guilt that had overtaken him. He answered slowly "It wasn't my decision, you know… I wouldn't ever…" He looked down at the ground, lost. "I didn't have any part of this Njal."

Njal only looked over him again, frowning a little more. With a small huff of air he snapped his attention away and stood up leisurely. Sauntering back to the house, he stopped outside the door. He glanced at the letter he held in his hand and looked back at Saemund, still sitting up against the log looking disconsolately. Sighing yet again Njal walked inside.

He returned a few minutes later, holding a pile of blankets and pillows.

* * *

><p><strong>Hahahaha late as usual (I tried to get this up since THURSDAY but Fanfiction is a bitch)<strong>

**Nothing really to say about this one except FILLER CHAPTER **

**Well it's not really filler, as it has a purpose, but nothing really happens…**

**Sorry for the boring angst… but the next chapter (which WILL be submitted later this week as it's already typed and ready to go) is fun and fluffy.**

**Uhhh…. Oh yeah one thing!**

**Egill – Iceland. I like Emil and Ari as good Iceland names, but Emil means 'rival' and that's not what I want him to be in this story. So I went with Egill, for 'edge of a sword.' I mean hey, he's got to be a bad add little dude to be Iceland. I'm not certain, but I think he's going to be in this fic somewhere. But briefly. Just as a 'hey look it's egill. Oh hey he left' kinda thing. **

**Egill isn't a baby during this time because, I don't like the whole kid for a very long time spaced out ageing thing. I mean he's obviously not as old as Norway and Denmark, but if these countries just appear randomly out of the woods how the hell do they survive on their own if their first few decades are spent as babies? They can't opt out of natural selection, they'd be eaten by wolves or something. I mean I guess I could go a darker route and say that a lot of nations used to exist, they just never got picked up by someone. Maybe it's like super natural selection. Get picked up by humans/other nations or die because you're a fucking baby for fifty years. There's so few countries now because it's so hard to actually stay alive. Wow I got way to into that ok Egill is older let's just go with that. **


	9. Chapter 9

Saemund awoke as the first light of day cast itself over the mountains. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he shifted into a more comfortable position. Stretching his arms out and arching his back, he groaned out a satisfying yawn. Opening his bleary eyes he looked out at his surroundings.

He had slept outside.

A blanket lay draped up to his waist, and he could feel a pillow resting behind him on the log. _Why did I sleep out here? _Saemund groaned again as his back cracked again with the strain of standing up. Ambling for stability, he managed to finally make it to his feet, though a soft _thump _and a slight moan stopped him from moving away. Looking down, he saw that Njal, still asleep, was right at his feet. _Well alright then, He_ thought, must've_ fallen asleep on my leg and I didn't notice. _He stepped quietly over the man. Looking around again, Seamund decided to make the most of his early rising and head out for some fire wood. Trudging into the house, he grabbed his trusty axe and headed through the door to the forest that lay outside it.

Walking briskly back across the grassy area containing the little ring of logs, and now also a snoring Njal, Saemund reached the edge of the woods and stopped. He turned around to glance back at the man. He still lay in much the same position as Seamund had left him in, curled up on the ground next to the log, but the force of his headrest being lost had resulted in his blanket slipping down to his waist. Saemund shivered just at the thought of leaving him in the slightly chilly morning air.

Saemund walked over to him and, cautiously, grabbed him under his arms and pulled him back up so that his head now rested on the side of the log. He took his blanket and pulled it up to his chin, a notion that the sleeping man seemed to register as he had unconsciously pulled it tighter around himself. Saemund smiled at this and grabbed his own blanket, which he had previously cast aside, and draped it over Njal as well. Satisfied with his work, Saemund stood up yet again and headed to the woods.

* * *

><p>"FUCKKKKKK"<p>

Saemund jumped up at the loud noise. _What the fuck was th- "_FUCKING HELL SHIT"

Saemund turned around from where he was chopping wood and looked towards the direction the screaming was coming from.

Grasping his axe tight, he bolted toward the edge of the woods and towards the house.

"NJAL WHAT'S WRONG?" He practically screamed as he dashed into the clearing containing the logs. His heart was racing and he stood prepared for anything, may it be a bear or an army of men. He held his axe out in case of attack and scanned the area for potential threats.

All he saw was Njal, leaned up against the house.

Saemund inquired "WHAT'S GOING ON? ARE YOU HURT? WHERE ARE THEY?" as he began frantically searching the area.

Still, he could find nothing out of place.

"Nothing's wrong you _imbecile." _Njal seethed.

"WHY WERE YOU SCREAMING THEN?" Saemund had paced over to were Njal stood, and continued to raise his voice even when he stood no more than three feet away. "YOU SHOULDN'T BE SCREAMING. YOU SHOULD ONLY SCREAM IF… YOUR SCREAM TO BODY RATIO WAS AT 'BEING EATEN ALIVE BY WOLVES' LEVEL. THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT." Njal screamed back, his face now looking straight up at Samund.

Besides his angrier than usual scowl and scathing look, something was visibly off with Njal. To Saemund he appeared unstable; something he picked up on when he noticed the Norwegian was still clutching the side of the house and swaying slightly.

"The hell're you looking at, Dane?" Njal hissed.

"What's wrong with you? Njal what're you-" "NOTHING GODDAMMIT" Njal yelled, and at that he ran away.

Well, At least he tried too.

Njal face planted straight into the dirt as soon as he tried to take a step away. Groaning, he rose up his hands, and in a fit of pure anger punched the ground with as much force as one could muster while still having their face pressed against the ground.

"What're ya doing Njal?" Saemund asked, wearing a particularly condescending smile.

"WHY HAVING A CULTURE FEST OF COURSE, I FELT ME AND THE NICE, BROWN, NORWEGIAN DIRT COULD HAVE A LITTLE BONDING TIME, YA KNOW?" Njal screamed into the ground. He picked himself up as best he could, and shakily made it over to the house where he then hung onto the door frame.

Saemund couldn't help but laugh at this, and the hateful glances Njal shot at him weren't helping his case.

"What're you doing Njal? Haven't got your land legs have ya?" Saemund chuckled out.

"What do you mean, idiot Dane… shouldn't you be like this too?" Njal questioned.

"Um, no? I'm not drunk, or whatever the hell you are right now" Saemund answered.

"Damn… you.. You don't feel anything?"

"Uh…" Saemund had to think for a moment, _what am I supposed to be feeling? _"No?"

"Not even a slight… uneasiness? Like the ground is just… shaking or something?" Njal furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Uh.. noooo…-oh. OH. Today's… Thorsday correct?" Saemund questioned.

Njal could only stare at Saemund in utter confusion.

"What in the hell are you.." he cut himself off as Saemund continued looking at him for an answer. "yes. Today is Thorsday. You've been here like.. 3 days. Why?"

"Today's supposed to be the actual day that you… your will country become… with me." Saemund said. "Most countries go through… side effects." Saemund chuckled to himself and added much more confidently " Of course being the Argr that you are they're probably worse than usual"

Njal glared at him and said "I _will_ throttle you, Dane."

"That's nice, Norwegian." Saemund said, now with an even bigger smile on his face.

"Don't use _my own mockery against me_." Njal bit out.

Saemund only smiled wider.

After a few tense moments, Saemund spoke up again.

"So, Congratulations?"

"What are you talking about, Dane." Njal finally said, still staring at him with murderous intent.

"Well I guess technically you're a Dane now too, Dane." Saemund smiled. "so should I say, _that's nice, DANE."_

Njal's death glare met Saemunds cheekier than ever grin, and coming to a silent agreement, they both lunged forward.

* * *

><p><strong>AW SHIT <strong>

**THOSE BE FIGHTIN' WORDS**

**next chapter is going to be so fun oh my god **

**it involves asses**

**lots**

**of asses**

**and Sweden.**

**yep~**


	10. Chapter 10

Saemund held a cold slab of meat to the purple hued area around his eye. He was frowning, due in part to the split lip he had, but mostly because the Man who had caused his pain was lying, staring, and right the fuck next to him.

"What the fuck do you want?" he jabbed

Njal replied "You're lookin' rough, " and with that added a sideways smirk.

Saemund groaned and turned over as best he could accomplish with his sore body. He didn't want to deal with this.

"'s what you get for bein' all 'imperialistic',Dane" Njal said.

Saemund could only sigh and say "You're pretty rough yourself, Norge" as he propped himself up on the wall of the House. After their 'clash of frustrations' they had both quietly limped inside to heal themselves. All they ended up doing, however, was collapsing right inside the door after grabbing some much needed bandages and slabs of frozen meat.

They had been there for perhaps an hour already.

The fight, including, but not limited to, kicking, punching, biting, and hair grabbing. Though bruised and battered, both could subconsciously agree that reverting to fists flying did not let out as much steam as they had wanted.

About the only thing they could agree on at this point is the fact that neither one enjoyed their situation.

"You called me Norge. Don't do that." Njal looked towards Saemund.

"Well I thought it'd convince ya that I didn't do anything at all to you, you're still the fucking dick of country that you used to be."

"Not technically though."  
>Saemund scoffed at Njal "Who even cares about technically? Yeah sure your 'honorary' name changed a bit, but you seem to not care that mine did too."<p>

"You're not the one being owned though." Njal sighed " And yeah, there's no Norge anymore, so just stick to Njal and everyone'll be happier"

"Well I am no owner, mind you. I'm only here 'cause my King told me ta be."

Njal made a noncommittal grunt, and silence once again fell between the two.

"SSSSSHIT" Saemund hissed as he dabbed a water soaked piece of cloth to a rather large cut on his leg. "I mean, we're fucking immortal and shit, can't Idunn give us some more healing powers or something? I mean its great 'n all that I can't break my leg, but FUCK THIS STINGS"

Njal only chuckled at him, though he too grimaced from the pain radiating off his scraped up arm as he bandaged it up.

Once both of them finished, they again lied back against the wall.

"I hurt… everywhere." Njal said into the air.

"I'm with you." Saemund then staggered up onto his feet, "so I'm gonna…" he made a gesture that looked like him chugging back a large drink, and pointed towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen nook of the house.

He returned from burying around in the cabinet, and in his hands where two, rather large, horns of mead.

"Is that how you deal with stuff you don't like? Subdue it with alcohol?" Njal said.

"Hey if you don't.." Njal cut him off, hands grabbing at the horn in Saemunds hand, "No, I want it. I don't want to even think about your kings fucking power complex, I just want some mead right the fuck now."

Saemund laughed at him and handed over the horn. He sat back down next to Njal, and then both looked over at the other. With a simple quick glance, both raised themead to their lips, and with a shout of "Fuck the king" they tilted back their heads and drank.

* * *

><p>"Why the fuck did we think this is a good idea, Saemund?" Njal said, looking up at the man's head that lied rested on his own.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>ANOTHER SHORT CHAPTER BECAUSE FUCK<strong>

Hi I like reviews and stuff and yeah if you could do that that'd just be grand

Next chapter fo sho will be great

look at that preview up there LOOK AT IT

DON'T YOU JUST WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S COMING NEXT?

THEY JUST DOWNED A BUNCH A ALCOHOL

SHIT GUNNA GO DOWN, SON


	11. Chapter 11

The rocking was insufferable.

Side to side, side to side.

It defiantly didn't help his hangover. He felt positively sick.

However, that might be due to his drunken decision to trap himself on a tiny boat bound for Oslo with Saemund.

'_Oh holy Odin' he_ thought.

They never should have broken out the mead. No matter how much temporary relief, from his now even achier bones, it brought.

He heard a groan from somewhere behind him. Turning to look at the source, he saw his companion sprawled out across the small boat. _'well that's interesting' _Njal thought as he smirked at the Danes atrocious bed head '_how did he manage to even accomplish that?' _

"How… ugh GOD, my fucking head… how far?" Saemund asked, looking up at Njal.

Njal looked out across the grey water.

Grey sky. Mist. The faint outline of cliffs on one side.

"I'd say exactly 14 minutes, and 34 seconds" Njal said, turning back to give Saemund a truly terrifying glare. At Saemund's resulting gulp, Njal chuckled and leant back on the wood plank seat.

Lying with their heads nearly side by side, Saemund spoke up.

"I think… we might've been able to come up with a better idea."

Njal sighed, "You _really _think so, Dane?"

Saemund let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, yeah. At least it's a… bonding experience?"

"You_ do_ know where we're going and what we're going to do, don't you?" Njal questioned.

"Of course! Might as well use the time we've got, though. I can see it now, a court herald announcing 'TWO NATIONS FOUND DEAD DUE TO BEING STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN"

Njal had to laugh at that, but he commented "we can't die though. They'll just find us looking like a draugr."

"Maybe that's how we can scare the king into agreeing with us! Just waltz in all 'WE DEMAND YOUR SOUL'"

"Let us feast on your braaaiinnns." Njal moaned.

"and your pet doggg and all your pretty wommeeenn." Saemund added on.

"Oh and don't forget that we need to be seperateeeedd please" Njal added

"Vikings don't say please, Njal."

"suck my undead coooccckkk" Njal stated

Saemund guffawed, "wait _me_ or _him_?"

Njal scoffed, "Oh god, have you _seen _his beard? That thing is going NOWHERE near my dick."

"His beard is the _epitome _of manliness, Njal"

"If you love it so much, why don't you marry his?"

Saemund responded, "That's nonsense!"

"Get one of your own then, idiot. I'm sure the Norwegian women would _love_ you. Just remember to not open your mouth ok?" Njal smirked.

Saemund instantly went sober.

He rubbed his chin, and quietly added "It's coming along…"

Njal jumped up, and looked back down at Saemund with a disbelieving smile on his face.

"You haven't got a SINGLE hair on your face Saemund!"

Saemund frowned. "OF COURSE I DO."

Njal arched his brows in a silent _'seriously'_

"You haven't got any either, you hypocrite!"

"That's because I know how to _shave, dumbass"_

Saemund looked taken aback. "I SWEAR IT'S THERE NJAL"

"Don't believe you"

"HERE FEEL" Saemund grabbed Njal's hand to lift it toward his face.

Njal couldn't stop laughing as he struggled to resist the Danes advances.

Soon Saemund resorted to just trying to rub his horribly prickly chin on Njal's.

"FEEL IT NJAL? IT'S THERE"

"HEY THERE" a voice suddenly called.

The two quickly separated, jumping up at the voice.

A man, standing at the front of another boat, drifted forward. "Sorry to interrupt, but may I ask why you're here?" he asked in Norwegian.

Njal spoke up, "we're here to see the king."

The man smiled. "Well obviously, I mean I know who you are and everything. Just wondering if my suspicions were confirmed"

"Suspicions?"

He laughed, "Yeah, we've got a bet going on at court about you guys. You lasted two days less than I thought…"

Saemund and Njal glanced at one another.

"ah, well… You two going to need any assistance getting to the court?"

* * *

><p>Sitting on his throne was a very angry looking Danish King.<p>

"What do you two want?" He growled

Saemund stepped forward, "Please king, we request a change."

"I specifically told you to go and protect Norge, now you're here to beg? Where is your dignity Saemund."

Njal frowed and added "I don't need any protecting…"

The King cast him a sidewards glance.

Saemund continued, "Please! This assignment isn't working! I want to just kill him every chance I get! That's not very effective protection, I think!"

Njal added, "Yeah but I think I'd kill him first though."

The King silenced them with a booming "NO"

Saemund called again "Please consider!"

The King slumped back in his seat and stroked his beard.

"I'll think about it… give me a while though."

Saemund answered with a hysterical, broken laugh. "a-awhile?"

He turned to Njal, and lunged forward, grasping the Norwegians neck in his hands. "We don't have a while, King! Say yes now or-or I'll kill him!"

Njal responded with a swift kick to the Danes stomach.

As Saemund lied slumped on the ground, Njal placed his foot over his chest.

"If you do not reassign Denmark, I will crush his lungs." He stated simply.

Saemund swiftly grabbed the Norwegians leg and brought him to the ground as well.

Amidst the flurry of punches and kicks that resulted, the King called out: "STOP YOU TWO."

They both froze.

"I'll give my decision in the morning, and if there is ANY predicaments before then, I will chain both of you up in your own little cell, YOU HEAR ME?"

"oh thank you thank you" Saemund chanted, running up to kneel and kiss his Kings hands.

Njal simply flashed a thumbs up, and promptly left the room.

"Now get off me, you joke of a country."

* * *

><p><strong>heh<strong>

**just a little late aren't I**

**just**

**a little**


End file.
